


If You Stay

by withthepilot



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Friendship, Kobayashi Maru, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-31
Updated: 2011-08-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 07:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu doesn't expect his crack at the Kobayashi Maru to go well, but it's worse than he ever imagined it could be. He finds some comfort from a surprising source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Second Annual Sulu-Off, hosted by old_blueeyes, for a prompt by thistlerose.

Sulu knows going into the Kobayashi Maru that he's going to fail. It happens to everyone, no matter how hard they study; failure at this particular test is almost like a rite of passage at the academy. There's no point in getting all worked up about it. He's going to fail and that's that.

He just doesn't know how _spectacularly_ he's going to fail.

As soon as things start going wrong, he freezes up and forgets maneuvers he learned in basic training, takes too long to weigh his options and looks at his fellow cadets with bug eyes when they ask him what they should do next.

"Captain," someone says—and oh yeah, captain, that's him, isn't it? "Should we fire on the enemy ships?"

Sulu recognizes the man as McCoy, a doctor who's too smart to be here. They were paired together once in a flight simulation and Sulu had to talk the guy through a bad case of nausea. He can still picture McCoy's knuckles turning white as he gripped the controls, the trickle of sweat sliding down his temple.

"Captain?" McCoy repeats. "We're running out of time. I need a decision now."

"Uhh...no. I mean, yes. Yes, fire on three. One, two—"

But by then, he's waited too long and his hesitation earns them some shocking blows that rattle the simulation deck and send one cadet tumbling out of her chair. Chekov, who promised to be here for Sulu's test, announces something about the ship being surrounded, and Sulu suddenly wishes desperately that he hadn't asked Chekov to come and witness this crushing humiliation.

In the end, no hostages are saved. No battles are won. And Sulu and the rest of his brave, fictional crew are rendered nothing more than space rubble. Sulu stays slumped in his captain's chair as the other cadets file out of the simulation room, and only looks up when someone lays a hand on his shoulder. He expects to look up and see Chekov and he's surprised when it turns out to be McCoy instead.

"Tough break," McCoy says. "You'll get there, though."

Sulu isn't so sure but he nods anyway. "Yeah, maybe."

That night, he's treated to his written assessment, which amounts to no more than a few brief paragraphs in a comm from some nameless department. It mostly goes on about his tendency to hesitate under pressure and kindly suggests he considers either attending some emergency response seminars or switching to another track besides command. It's obviously a form letter with some items plugged in to personalize it, and it's the same crap everyone likely receives, but it's still kind of devastating. Sulu could switch to the science track and focus on botany, sure, but it'll always be his second love after flying. Piloting a Starfleet ship and wearing command gold is all he's ever wanted.

He's close to deciding to drop out of the academy altogether when his door chime sounds. He figures it's McKenna, too drunk to remember their room code, but he's surprised once again to see McCoy standing there with a bottle in his hand.

"Bourbon," he says, holding it up for Sulu to see. "The good stuff. Thought you might need it."

"If I start drinking, I might not be able to stop," Sulu says, quirking a tired, self-deprecating smile as he lets him in. McCoy scoffs.

"Don't get dramatic, kid. It's a test that everyone fails. The fact that you failed too just makes you one of the gang."

Sulu points to the glasses so McCoy can get to pouring, then sits down on his bed with a sigh. "If I'm one of the gang, then why does Starfleet think I should give up command track?"

"Is that what those jackholes had to say? Goddamn idiots." He sits on the edge of the bed, a couple of feet away from Sulu. "You'd think they'd realize that an impossible scenario like that isn't exactly going to bring out the best in a bunch of inexperienced cadets, some of whom are barely through puberty. Not you, of course. Here, drink this." He holds out a glass to Sulu and they toast wordlessly before drinking. The bourbon is rich and strong; it definitely tastes like something McCoy would like.

"Maybe they're right," Sulu says, licking a spot of bourbon from his lips. "Maybe I'm not cut out for it. I totally froze. Chekov couldn't even look at me after it was over."

"The Russian kid? He was probably just pissing himself over the idea of having to go through that nonsense himself. Starfleet's specially made circle of hell." McCoy takes another swallow of bourbon and shakes his head. "You just need practice, is all. Lord knows, you could just keep taking the damn thing over and over again like my fool roommate—not that he ever gets any closer to beating it."

"Once was more than enough, thanks. No offense to your insane roommate." Sulu smirks and considers the glass of bourbon in his hand, twirling it back and forth. "You know, I don't really know why you're doing this, seeing as we barely know each other, but...it's nice. So, thanks."

McCoy shrugs and glances over at Sulu quickly, as if he's embarrassed to look. Sulu isn't quite sure what he sees in the doctor's eyes. "I owed you one," McCoy says. "We've gotta find some way to keep each other sane when they keep trying to drive us crazy. And, y'know, you seem like a smart kid. I'd hate to see them push you out of here."

Sulu smiles faintly and looks down at McCoy's fingers laced around his glass, remembers the white knuckles again. The sheer panic in his eyes and the slow bob of his Adam's apple as he gulped down air. The shaky sigh of relief when it was all over and the simulation shuttle stopped lurching and shaking. McCoy's grateful, wide eyes and his slippery palm, still damp from sweat when they shook hands.

"I'll stay if you stay," Sulu says. "And if you leave, I'll probably just follow after you because I've got nowhere else to be."

"Well, that wouldn't be so bad." McCoy clinks their glasses together again. "It's a deal. Either we stay or we stalk each other."

Sulu smothers a laugh against the rim of his glass. "It's a plan."

He hopes that one day—not today, but eventually—he'll remember this day, not as the one where he completely bombed the Kobayashi Maru, but as the first time he commiserated with McCoy over a drink. Because he knows it'll happen again. And that, at least, is something to look forward to.


End file.
